Chapter 1437: Mysterious Corpses II
It took Fargo a painstakingly long time to explain the new intelligence he had uncovered, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of unease. As the details spilled out, the once-serene air of the glasshouse thickened into something oppressive. The faint rustle of leaves against the glass walls now sounded eerily loud, almost accusatory.
Lucas accepted the stack of documents from Fargo, his fingers tightening minutely around the folder as he flipped it open. His violet eyes, that usually calm and warm, had darkened with each passing line. Wordlessly, he slid the file across the table toward Lory and Fredhardt.
For several long minutes, only the sound of pages turning broke the silence. Then Lory’s voice came, low and edged with a chill that betrayed her revulsion.
"Looks like they used the same method they tried with the Hamilton family."
"Yes," Fredhardt murmured, his tone grim as he flipped another page. "And if it weren’t for your intervention back then, they probably would’ve succeeded this time too." His brow furrowed as his eyes traced the disturbing details laid bare in the report.
Lucas’s jaw tensed as he set his clasped hands on his knee. "I heard about Manuel before... That man lost everything in the dark age War, his parents, wife, and his daughter. So his son was all he had left. It’s no surprise he will do anything to save his son."
"Fortunately," Fargo interjected, leaning back in his chair as though the weight of his revelation didn’t press on him like it did the others, "We had someone inside IHO willing to work with us. Thanks to them, we managed to transfer a few of the bodies back to N.I.M.S.’s secret facility for further analysis."
Lory’s eyes widened as he looked at Fargo. Her voice rose slightly and tinged with shock and disbelief. "Wait, you moved the corpses here?!"
Fargo blinked, his expression frustratingly nonchalant. "Well, how else were we supposed to examine them without the bodies?" he replied matter-of-factly, as if discussing nothing more serious than shipping crates of fruit.
Lory pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging it as though to stave off an oncoming headache. "So that’s how Ethan found out..." she muttered under her breath.
Fredhardt turned his sharp gaze on Fargo, his tone cool and clipped. "How many bodies did you move?"
"About ten," Fargo answered with a shrug, as if it were an inconsequential figure.